


Politics and Menswear

by viscouslover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canadians, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Alternate Universe - Retail, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 08:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2645423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viscouslover/pseuds/viscouslover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Cas works at Harry Rosen and local MP Dean Winchester needs a new suit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Politics and Menswear

It wasn’t supposed to be this way for Castiel. Novaks were bred for leadership.

Castiel’s father had been mayor, his grandfather had been mayor, and his great-grandfather had been mayor, dammit. He was supposed to follow in his illustrious family’s footsteps and take up public service.

His father always said that one day, Cas would be living at 24 Sussex Drive.

Good little soldier that he was, Castiel followed orders and marched off to Ottawa to study political science at the foot of Parliament Hill.

It turns out, education isn’t cheap. Sure, he had scholarships to pay the tuition. But, there were still books to buy and residence to pay for and at some point he was going to need to eat.

His parents likely would have preferred if he had begged to become some Cabinet Minister’s intern. They would have even accepted if he had settled for being something as common as a Page. But something about being cut off from home brought out Castiel’s rebellious side.

Castiel had always been preternaturally gifted in two things: politics and fashion. When he noticed that a position at Harry Rosen had opened, he immediately went to speak with the manager.

It began innocently enough with a seasonal position. But, one thing became another and suddenly he knew that high-end menswear was his true calling. Upon graduation, Castiel fell from his father’s grace and became a full-time employee at Harry Rosen.

Then, one day, Castiel looked at the shift scheduled and realized he’d been working there for nine years.

Castiel walked onto the showroom floor and peered over the racks for the fluffy puff of light brown hair that he knew would be bouncing about.

“Gabriel, may I speak with you?”

“Yo, Castiel man! What’s up?”

“Were you aware that I’ve been working here for nine years as of this week?”

“You're shitting me.” Gabriel had always been particularly eloquent.

“I am not ‘shitting’ you.” Castiel air-quoted. “Although, I’d prefer if you didn’t use vulgarity while we’re on the clock.”

“Castiel, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but this store is dead as a doornail.”

Castiel turned in a slow circle. “It appears you are correct.”

“Wow,” Gabriel huffed a disbelieving laugh. “You really had to double-check that? You’d think after nine whoooole years, you’d give your dear buddy Gabe a little more credit around here.”

“I believe it has taken me nine whole years to determine that you rarely deserve that credit.”

Gabriel clutched at his chest, “Brother! You wound me!”

“Gabriel, I am not your—” Castiel cut off as he saw Gabriel’s eyes widen dramatically. He turned to follow the gaze.

“Holy shit.” Gabriel whispered, then clasped both hands over his mouth.

Castiel barely managed to suppress his own surprise. Inside his very own store stood all six feet of the Darling of Parliament; Mr. Dean Winchester.

Mr. Winchester was the youngest sitting MP in the entire House of Commons. Elected by his peers in the charming rural county of Prescott-Russell, Mr. Winchester had spent the last three years making a serious name for himself through both his progressive agenda of equal rights and his roguish good looks.

Castiel, of course, admired Mr. Winchester greatly. On a professional level. Of course.

“Cassie, you gotta let the ol’ Gipper win this one,” Gabe pleaded. “You know my anniversary with Kali is coming up and—”

“I thought you broke up?”

“Yeah, we did. For a bit. But, that was, like, three weeks ago and we’re totally back on now.”

Castiel struggled to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “And now you need to buy an extra nice gift to make up for the break?”

Gabriel smiled sheepishly. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“Fine. Take the commission. I’ll be at cash.”

Castiel began to walk towards the cash and tried hard not to visibly deflate. He may not be able to meet the Darling of Parliament, but he shouldn’t be upset. He had been keeping abreast of Mr. Winchester’s parliamentary activity quite adequately through the media. There was no need to bother the man in public. Mr. Winchester probably preferred his privacy.

Mr. Winchester wouldn’t want Castiel Novak, former poli sci nothing, telling him how his policies were brilliantly tabled and admirably championed. How his speech at the Boys and Girls Club fundraiser last spring had inspired Castiel to become a volunteer. That his chiseled jaw and green eyes had made appearances in the last thirteen of Castiel’s— _No. Not now, Castiel._

Castiel had always been a professional. He would never allow his personal opinions to affect that. Mr. Winchester arrived here to purchase suits. Gabriel will sell Mr. Winchester those suits. Castiel will keep his professionalism.

Castiel glanced over to see how Gabriel was doing.

“Um, and what’s a monkey getup like this gonna run me?” Mr. Winchester questioned.

Castiel was not eavesdropping.

“Well, Bucko,” Gabriel was _most_ unprofessional, “For a hot piece like you, I wouldn’t dream of charging full price. I could knock off a whole, say, five percent?”

Oh, no. No discounts. Store policy.

Castiel strode over to where Gabriel was making a mockery of the retail industry and positioned himself in front of Mr. Winchester.

“I am most sorry, Mr. Winchester, but it is absolutely against store policy to provide discounts outside of designated sale promotions. I’m afraid that Mr. Godson is not authorized to sell you that suit below the retail price, regardless of how well the colour of the fabric would compliment your skin tone.”

“Uh, my skin tone?” Mr. Winchester furrowed his brow.

“Well, of course,” Castiel explained. “This particular colour of blue accentuates orange tones and since I know that in the summertime your freckles become more pronounced, I would say that this is a particularly flattering choice. The cut of the suit would also do an excellent job outlining the muscular breadth of your shoulders.”

Castiel ran his hands across hands across Mr. Winchester’s shoulders and then cut down his sides towards his waistline. “With proper tailoring, the jacket will also be able to mask the softness of this area.”

Castiel raised his eyes to see if his explanation had satisfied Mr. Winchester’s curiosity. He noticed that a light pink tinge had begun to show up underneath Mr. Winchester’s winter-faded smattering of freckles.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Mr. Winchester was staring at the hands by his waist. “I mean, I guess maybe that could work. My job doesn’t exactly allow me to, uh, eat super healthy, ya know? Lots of take-out, diner food, chip trucks… I’m just kinda busy a lot.”

“Yes, I am very familiar with your work, Mr. Winchester. I admire greatly the work you do for your constituents as well as in the local community.”

“You do?” Dean’s flush deepened and a lopsided smile took over his lips.

Gabriel threw up his arms in frustration and stalked back to the cash muttering under his breath about lost commissions and girlfriends who don’t take bad cheques.

Suddenly, Mr. Winchester narrowed his eyes. “Wait, you know about my work?”

“Of course I do. Everyone in Ottawa is familiar with the Darling of Parliament.”

“The _Darling of Parliment_!?” Mr. Winchester’s eyebrows raised comically. “Who the _hell_ still calls me that?”

Castiel cocked his head to the side in confusion. “I didn’t realize that there was an expiration on the use of certain monikers.”

“Yeah, but, man c’mon. No one’s called me that in at least a couple of years.” Mr. Winchester put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “And while we’re at it, none of this Mr. Winchester shit either. The people elected me because I’m one of them - I’m just a dude.”

Mr. Winchester lowered his head to catch Castiel’s fallen gaze. ”Just Dean, OK?”

“Of course, Dean.”

“Ok then.” Dean’s mouth widened into a stunning smile and then he squinted at Castiel’s nametag. “So, Castiel, tell me a little more about how much you admire my work…”

—-

Seven years later, Dean becomes Prime Minister and Cas makes it to 24 Sussex Drive after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Beka. 
> 
> I can be found at viscouslover.tumblr.com


End file.
